


The Grooves Foretell

by voleuse



Category: Alias
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-20
Updated: 2005-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I would teach them to walk on the earth</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grooves Foretell

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-series. Title, summary, and headings adapted from Jimmmy Santiago Baca's _Healing Earthquakes_, "As Life Was: Seven."

_i. like young buffaloes nudging their mothers' hands _

The marvelous thing about reaching the apex of the organization, Irina thinks, is that she has the ability to choose which projects she wants to helm, and which ones to pass on to those who work for her. All are important steps toward her goal, of course, but she will readily admit she is better suited for some tasks.

Because she compiled the initial information on the Americans' Project Christmas, Irina has Khasinau bring her status reports on their own program on a regular basis. Aside from acceptable progress, however, she doesn't have any particular interest in the subjects.

No particular interest, that is, until the profile of one of their subjects catches her eye. His test scores were high, even given the project's standards, and Kolakov's notes are unusually enthusiastic.

A closer look at his file reveals his family connections might also be an asset to the organization, should he survive the field.

Irina picks up her phone.

"Bring me all the information we have on Julian Sark."

_ii. teach them silence, to listen to the air_

They can't acquire Sark immediately, of course. There's protocol to be observed, regulations instituted for good reasons.

When Sark is sent to boarding school, however, Irina makes sure an operative is in place to observe him. When he shows a proficiency for languages, she funnels money into the school's department of modern languages, makes sure oblique suggestions are made to the academic counselors.

Khasinau protests investing so much in one, unproven child, but Irina waves away his concerns.

Sark excels in every subject presented to him.

Irina enjoys being right.

_iii. weave our gifts again_

He's recruited soon after he completes his education. It's less difficult than even Irina anticipated; the boy seethes with rebellion, or possibly ambition.

There's a careless ferocity about him that Irina finds intriguing. It's something that could prove to his disadvantage while in the field. He'll have to harness it, rein it in to his advantage.

There are several operatives that could adequately teach him the necessary skills.

Sark, however, is better than "adequate." She's seen photos of him, heard the proud ring of his voice over surveillance tapes. She recognizes her own will in this boy.

She resolves to train him herself.

_iv. teach them to fight for solitude, stand their ground_

He doesn't scowl at her when she strikes him, though he flinches before the second blow.

Because he flinches, she doesn't hit him a third time, but as she lowers her hand, she knows her disappointment is pain enough.

There wasn't any particular reason for violence, only that he didn't expect it at that moment. Why should he? They are alone, at the firing range, and he's displayed excellent marksmanship.

He's not arrogant enough to expect praise, but he doesn't expect pain, either.

That kind of thinking might get him killed, and it will certainly get him shot.

Irina isn't opposed to letting him suffer that ignominy, but it would be a waste of time, of a good resource.

His arm is merely bruised, so she directs his attention back to the target, and has him shoot again.

For a second, their eyes meet, and she sees understanding flicker over his face.

When he fires, thrice, dead center through the target again, she graces him with a smile.

_v. demand, shivering uncertainty in blood, demand solitude_

They've been waiting in the warehouse for hours. She's deliberately lost track of how long they've huddled in the rafters, allowing Sark to gauge the time himself.

It's raining outside, and they haven't eaten since yesterday.

The mission is low priority, almost negligible, but despite her confidence in Sark's ability to adapt, Irina isn't a fool.

This is Sark's first time in the field, and it will be the first time he kills a human being.

He does not know it yet.

The sky darkens further, except for the occasional flash of lightning. She hears an engine underneath the rumble of thunder. She looks at Sark. He nods, acknowledging the target's approach.

The door to the warehouse creaks open and a truck rolls inside. Along with the driver, there are two men in the cab, both armed. Her sources indicated this was a run-of-the-mill drop, a crate of weapons, some heroin. It warranted her organization's attention because the profits go to K-Directorate, and she enjoys interfering with their plans when it's convenient to her.

She signals to Sark, drops down from the rafters to the floor, rappelling silently.

She takes out the two guards easily, then disappears around the back of the truck, makes sure the cargo is what she expected.

The driver is armed, too, she knows. Sark isn't aware, but he should have made that deduction.

There's a sharp report, then another.

She could check to make sure Sark is all right, but if he isn't, he's of no use to her.

A minute passes.

Silence.

She creeps back around the truck, finds Sark standing over a body and a growing pool of blood.

"Sark."

He trains the gun on her, instinctively, then recognizes her.

There's a hollow look in his eyes. She brushes her hand against his shoulder, clutches.

"Breathe."

He nods, breathes deeply, once, twice.

She steps back. "Report."

He takes one more breath, then calls the second team for retrieval.

She doesn't tell him that she's proud of him, because it's probably what he wants to hear.

_vi. teach them to walk on the earth as humans_

After that first mission, Irina accelerates Sark's training. She sends him on low-priority missions with other agents than herself, then trains him on more important targets.

Under her direction, Sark is given assignments of his own, and he never fails in his objectives, never fails to complete the mission.

He never fails her.

She distances herself from Sark's activities, though she never severs their contact completely. A nod from across the room, perhaps an appearance during debriefings. She stays visible, but allows him to become respected in his own right.

The time might come, she knows, when she has to disappear, and she doesn't trust Khasinau, or any of the others, to work towards her goals in her absence.

He will be her right hand on that day, and she knows he'll savor it.

It's a fragile balance she must maintain, but when she lets fall words of praise, she watches Sark's mouth twitch in acknowledgment, and knows she's chosen well.


End file.
